


Falling with the Stars

by JensenAckles13



Category: Avengers, Frostiron - Fandom, Marvel, Norse Mythology
Genre: Angst, BAMF Loki, BAMF Tony, But is still a little shit, Fluff, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, M/M, Revenge, Smut, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is pissed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JensenAckles13/pseuds/JensenAckles13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a god afraid of falling and a man who learns how to fly.<br/>This is the story of lies and truths entwining, forming one; of pain and loss; of love and passion; of life and death.<br/>This is the story of a god who fell for a mortal and a mortal who flew up and caught him.<br/>"He didn’t expect to see the god again. In fact, he was rather counting against it. So when Loki showed up in the middle of his room at 3 a.m. with black thread stitching his lips together and blood mixed with sweat and dirt coating his body, he was more than a little surprised. In fact, waking up from a nightmare to find a handsome and injured god standing in the middle of his room looking like a lost puppy surprised him so much that he’d promptly fallen out of bed, taking the bedside table with him."<br/>(Remake of my fic 'Falling')</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return of the Norse God

If someone were to ask either of them what it had been like to fall, they would’ve responded in like- tedious, boring, time-consuming….of course that was nowhere near the truth…though time-consuming did come fairly close.  
To Tony, it had seemed like days, weeks, or even months. Given, he was unconscious- he would forever deny that he had been dead- and couldn’t remember what had happened, but watching and waiting for those terrible orange and red flames to chase away the remnants of an alien ship had been the longest moment of his life. It was only worsened by the lack of oxygen and the awful pain building in his chest. And then had come the blinding explosion and he had allowed his eyes to fall closed and succumbed to the horrible darkness that had tried to steal him away the moment he’d flown up into the wretched beauty of what he had once wanted so desperately to explore.  
To Loki, it had felt like an eternity. He was fully conscious of the terrible beauty his eyes sought out as he fell; he saw the beginning and the end of a world in one fell swoop. He’d had time to think- to wonder whether this had been his worst mistake or if it was yet to come. For the entire, breathless eternity, Loki saw what he never thought he could- life and death entwined in an explosion of orange and red, a man in red and golden armor falling through the starless sky, out of place even more so than the alien ship that hovered there. And then he was gone once more, floating away from the sight of the future and into the past, where he closed his eyes and let himself go, straight into the hands of the enemy. They’d brought him back, just as the Man of Iron had been brought back- through fear.  
If anyone ever asked Loki if he knew what would come; if he knew of his failure, he would’ve said no. He would’ve denied it until it was nothing more than a mantra of unsteady apologies to the ones who tormented him; who bent him out of shape and tortured him into submission. If he was asked if he had felt remorse as he plunged the blade into the Man of Irons chest, he would’ve said no, but in truth, he was raging with unveiled emotion, tears blurring vision that was usually so sharp, fury altering perception that was usually so ingenious.  
If anyone ever asked Tony if he’d fallen in love with the God of Chaos and Mischief, he would use his tongue to distract; use his endlessly flawless words to deflect from the question he had asked himself many times over, and denied the answer each and every time. He would tell you that no, he wasn’t in love with Loki. In truth, he couldn’t be in love with Loki. He did not want his heart broken, and Loki was a heartbreaker.  
But, as always, love triumphs over all, including ones rash decisions and weak attempts to deter.  
This would not change for the god or the mortal- fate always had a strange way of showing her power.  
*  
It had been a year and three days since the attack on New York, though Tony would fully deny that he had been counting the days that passed. That being said, it had been one year and three days since he’d decided Loki was everything he’d ever searched for and everything he’d ever tried to avoid. It was a vicious contradiction. He didn’t expect to see the god again. In fact, he was rather counting against it. So when Loki showed up in the middle of his room at 3 a.m. with black thread stitching his lips together and blood mixed with sweat and dirt coating his body, he was more than a little surprised. In fact, waking up from a nightmare to find a handsome and injured god standing in the middle of his room looking like a lost puppy surprised him so much that he’d promptly fallen out of bed, taking the bedside table with him. The shattering of the bottle of Jack Daniels that had been sitting there, coupled with the loud thump of the screwdriver that had been next to it was enough to startle Loki from his kicked puppy impression. Or perhaps it was Tony’s wild thrashing as he struggled to get out of the blankets that had entwined around him like some sort of silken serpent.  
It was when Loki raised a pale hand, a finger held up as if he were trying to tell him something, and then promptly keeled over that Tony had finally rid himself of the soft deathtrap he’d been wrapped in. He stared at the bleeding god for a solid forty seven seconds, mouth agape and doing a very good impression of a fish, before he was spurred into action. He rushed forward, babbling at Jarvis to keep the house on lockdown and not to let anyone, I repeat anyone, know of what had transpired.  
His hands hovered above the unconscious deity, trying to figure out what, exactly, to do with a half dead god, before he hauled him into his arms (good lord, the god was far too thin to be weighing this much) and set (dropped) him rather unceremoniously onto the bed.  
He rearranged long limbs into positions that looked more comfortable, which inevitably led to a spread eagled God of Chaos and Mischief facedown in his bed. Tony huffed to himself and rolled the god over, getting him relatively comfortable on the sheets that were currently being bled all over (Oh, he was so going to have to get new sheets after this. Possibly a new mattress. Or maybe a new bedroom).  
Slowly and methodically, he began ridding the god of his garments, starting with all the leather and gold. The emerald tunic underneath went next, as did the boots, leaving the god in nothing but those sinfully tight leather pants (okay, so perhaps now wasn’t the best time to admire the god, but Tony had never been called shameful and Loki had a great ass).  
He did not (totally did…under all the bruising and…stuff) like what he saw underneath.  
Whip marks crisscrossed the deity’s back, some sloppily healed and others scabbing over or still bleeding. What could only be knife wounds were gouged between his ribs in jagged, painful looking cuts that ranged anywhere from a couple inches to half a foot in length. His torso was a mess of mottled purples and blues, and his wrists had been rubbed raw; he’d clearly been held with manacles or something of the sort. A rather dark hand print encircled his throat and Tony glared at it, as if his rage alone would make it go away.  
He found the rather large first aid kit hiding under his also rather large sink in the bathroom (Bruce had insisted upon it after Thor’s incident with the toaster in the Tower) and immediately set to work.  
Suturing whatever needed to be sutured (had he been anyone but who he was, his hands wouldn’t have been steady enough, though as a mechanic, his hands were steady no matter how much alcohol he drank).  
After he’d finished his ministrations, he cleaned the god of all the blood and dirt and whatever else that he decided he really didn’t want to know what.  
Bandages soon followed; he wrapped and tapped with careful fingers, cautious not to wake Loki (he rather liked his head where it was, thank you very much). With this, the god was looking relatively human again. Except for the fact that he wasn’t human, but whatever, minor details.  
And, you know, there were still the stitches holding his lips closed.  
How fitting- the Silvertongue unable to use his words.  
It made Tony feel sick.  
Finding a smaller pair of scissors, he sat and stared at the god for an ungodly (heh) amount of time before beginning to snip the threads between his lips and pulling the string from his flesh.  
The process was long and exhausting because concentration was hard for someone who didn’t particularly enjoy what he was concentrating on, and had him running to the bathroom to rid of everything he’d consumed that day (which had, admittedly, only been alcohol and cold pizza) before he finally finished.  
With this task complete, he drew the blankets up over Loki’s broken body and to his chest, situating his head on the heavenly soft pillows, before he put everything he’d gotten out away.  
This task was ultimately much shorter than the task of fixing the deity, which Tony was more than thankful for.  
After he’d finished, he found himself a nice bottle of bourbon and a glass, putting a few cubes of ice into it and bringing the bottle with him, not even bothering with the shattered one on the floor, and pouring it into his glass.  
He drank it down in one go because dammit he deserved it.  
And then he poured another.  
Sipping this one more leisurely, he let his thoughts wander, which really wasn’t the best idea for someone housing (nursing) a psychotic Norse God.  
Closing his eyes and rubbing at his forehead, he perched himself on the edge of the bed, forcing all logical thoughts out of his mind, including the one screaming bad idea, bad idea, bad idea and took a beautiful mouthful of his alcohol, back coming to rest against the headboard.  
He did the only thing he could then, and waited.  
If he noticed Loki’s hand coming to rest on his thigh, he didn’t say anything.


	2. Deal with the Devil...or a Psychotic Norse God

When Loki awoke, it was not at all how they showed you in movies; there was no languid, cat like stretch; no delicate fluttering of the eyelashes; no small little smile upon seeing someone in the room and he sure as hell didn’t look like he’d just done his makeup and hair.   
No, Loki awoke with a scream; a blood curdling, heart wrenching thing.   
It startled Tony so badly he fell off the bed a second time that night.   
He’d quickly jumped back to his feet with a cry of “Rudolph!” and a frantic wave of his hands.  
Fear, however, had already set in as Loki was pulled into the depths of his mind and trapped there, reliving whatever horrors that had pushed him to seek refuge with his enemy….even if it was accidental _(which Tony had a strong feeling it was)_.   
Jarvis had long since turned the lights off; the only thing lighting the room was the dull glow of the arc reactor from behind the Metallica tee shirt Tony was wearing, and because of this, he couldn’t quite make out the god’s face. What he did see, however, was Loki sitting curled into himself. His legs were drawn to his stuttering chest, his arms curled around his knees, his face buried in them.

“Please.” Loki was begging now, his voice cracking. “Please, no more, no more, no more…..” It became an unsteady mantra of heartbreaking pleas from a broken god.  
Tony didn’t hesitate- he scrambled back onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the shuddering figure, holding Loki firmly to his chest. At first, Loki resisted, muscles tensing as he weakly tried to pull away. Finding out he was too weak to do such a simple task, he sat stock still.  
It was subtle at first- the slowing of his breathing, the relaxing of his shoulders. His arms and legs soon followed, unfurling themselves from their tight position. And then it was his back, the curve of his spine relaxing and resting. Loki’s head lolled to rest against Tony’s shoulder, glazed green eyes moving up to gaze at him through half mast lids.  
“Thank you.” It was whispered so quietly Tony almost missed it- would have, had it not been so quiet already. Tony didn’t respond; simply moved to stand. The god’s fingers fisted in his shirt, and Tony’s eyes once more sought out poison green ones, this time heavy with plea.  
“Stay.” Again, Tony almost missed it. But he didn’t. He simply nodded and moved to lean back against the headboard, taking Loki with him. The god fitted his head into the crook of Tony’s neck and curled into his side. Tony kept his arms around Loki, one around his shoulders, the other thrown across his waist. He toed his boots off and let them fall to the ground with a dull thud. Somehow, he maneuvered the pair of them under the blankets without dislodging the god that was clinging to his side. Resting his cheek in the god’s soft, raven locks, he murmured softly;

“Sleep well, Rudolph.”  
And somewhere, somehow, both of them fell into a dreamless sleep.  
It was the best Tony had had in years.

*

When he woke, it was to an indignant screech and whatever was warming him was torn violently away. He slowly blinked his eyes open, trying in vain to rid of the sleepiness blurring his vision without having to move. Seeing as how this didn’t work, he sighed and scrubbed both fists into his eyes until he could see properly. And what he saw shocked him into remembrance.  
Loki was half kneeling, half crouching on the floor, gazing up at Tony with wide green eyes that held absolutely no hint of the god that had clung to his side last night.

“Wha’?” he slurred tiredly. God, it was too early for this shit. He hadn’t even had his coffee yet.

“Why am I….what did you….” Loki seethed, unable to form even a coherent sentence, his eyes never leaving Tony’s.

“Hey,” Tony replied indignantly, more awake now as he sat and faced the still crouching god. “You’re the one who wanted snuggle time, not me. I just happen to like snuggling attractive and slightly psychotic Norse gods who try to take over the world, and then show up in my room at 3 a.m. and pretend none of it ever happened.”

“I assure you,” Loki replied after a pregnant pause in which he spent getting his temper back under control. “That was not of my doing.”

“Of course.” Tony pouted, pushing out his bottom lip. “And here I thought I was special.”

“You do know,” Loki said calmly. “I could rip your head from your shoulders before you could think about calling your dear Avengers, let alone complete the task.”

“Could, but won’t,” Tony replied, shrugging. Loki narrowed his eyes and stood, towering over Tony, fists clenching and unclenching.

“And what, pray tell, Mr. Stark, would ever give you that idea?”

“You’ve had plenty of chances, Rudolph. You could’ve done it while I was asleep. You could’ve done it last night during our alleged snuggle time. You’ve had opportunities and you haven’t taken a single one of them. _And_ ,” Tony added on, though this was more of a wild guess than anything. “You’ve just escaped wherever the hell you were and you can’t risk going back there.”  
Ah, there it was; the tensing of his shoulders, the straightening of his spine, the clench of his fists that held a slight tremble.   
“You, big fella,” Tony continued. “Need some place to stay.”  
The breath let out between clenched teeth was more than a little annoyed.

“Alright,” Loki admitted. “I do come seeking refuge. Though it was never my intention to come seeking it _here_ , but as you are known for your security, I would ask you allow me to stay.”  
Tony pretended to think for a moment, though he’d already made up his mind. Hell, he’d made his decision last night. Then, he’d come up with two decisions; one, he was going to personally murder _(blowing up was always good, but he could always go with a good ol’ decapitation, or maybe even rip their spine out)_ whoever did that to Loki, and two, he was going to do absolutely everything in his power to prevent the god from having to or being forced to go back to wherever the hell it was he’d been.

“I’ll tell you what, Rudolph; I don’t like you. I haven’t _ever_ liked you, least of all with the whole “Kneel before me!” shtick, though I can think of a different reason to kneel before you, a reason I really don’t need to justify because _damn_.” He moved his eyes over Loki pointedly, and the god smirked. “ _But_ ,” he continued. “I’m expected to call the rest of the team, have ‘em lock you up in some cage and then S.H.I.E.L.D will probably torture you a bit and I’m supposed to go along with it like some good little agent. But as I’m not an agent and love defying expectations, I’m going to pretend I have no idea who S.H.I.E.L.D is. As I also love bad ideas, and you, Loki, are a _very_ bad idea, I’m going to offer you a deal; I’ll let you stay, on a few conditions- obviously, as you’re a psychotic Norse God-”

“I am not, nor was I ever, psychotic.”

“- there’s _got_ to be conditions; conditions like no maiming, killing, or otherwise harming innocent- or even not so innocent- civilians. Or anyone, for that matter. No breaking earth’s laws, unless it’s something rudimentary that no one follows anyways, and if you’re going to do that, make sure you don’t get caught. My house, my rules. You have to follow them with little complaining and/or bitching. And do not, and I mean _do not_ go in my lab without my permission or otherwise break any of those simple rules I’ve given you. Oh, and if you make an attempt on my life, Jarvis will be more than happy to have a little fun with the anti-magic EMP I’ve been working on, won’t you, Jay?”

“It would be a _pleasure_ , sir.”

“So,” Tony said with a wicked smile. “Do we have a deal?”  
The smile Loki gave him was more teeth than anything, too feral to be safe yet just dangerous enough that it made Tony tingle in ways he shouldn’t explain with kids in the room.

“I believe we have a deal, Mr. Stark.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, lemme know what you think!   
> Sorry these chapters have been so short- I promise, they'll get longer eventually!


	3. Panic

As it turned out, Loki had a specialty in assholery.  
If Loki was in a room Tony had walked into, he’d walk out or pretend he wasn’t there.   
It had been like this for three days now, ever since the fight they’d had the day after the god had gotten there…and proceeded to ‘accidentally’ blow up half of the penthouse, managing to come out without a scratch while Tony ended up with a concussion because the wall had moved into a really convenient place behind his head and he learned for the third time that flying without the suit wasn’t fun.   
It had been a petty fight, really, and completely the god’s fault _(it was_ so _in Tony’s right to yell when he’d woken up ‘cause damn, that hurt and now half of his penthouse was in smithereens)_.

“What the _hell?_ ” Tony had screamed when he thought he could talk without throwing up, though he was still cautious about moving _(he was wholly convinced his brain would melt out of his ears)_ , so this was screamed from where he was half slumped against the wall as the god emerged from the smoke like some sort of fucking hero.

“I was bored. It was a simple spell misfire and nothing more. You needn’t be so vocal about it.”

 _So vocal?!_ “Oh, you fucking asshat! Of course I’m going to be ‘vocal’- you just blew up half my penthouse!” _No, the god hadn’t_ seen _vocal yet_.

Loki looked entirely unimpressed. “It is not _my_ fault you haven’t provided me with entertainment.”

“Well, ex _cuse_ me your fucking Highness, I didn’t know I had to _provide_ you with entertainment. I was under the mistaken assumption you could _find it on your own_!”

“Oh, but I have,” Loki said, an amused tone to his voice, the bastard.

“Just get out. Just get the fuck out. Go back to wherever the hell it was you came from; see how much they care!” And okay, maybe that had been a bit harsh, but he was _beyond_ pissed.

For a moment, raw fear shone in those eyes, but it disappeared as soon as it had come. “Fine,” sneered the god. “Perhaps I shall.”

Whoa, slow the fuck down. “Hey, I didn’t actually _mean_ it, Rudolph. Calm the fuck down and go to your room like a good little god.”   
The look Loki gave him could’ve frozen him solid.   
But the god complied anyways, simply disappearing in a burst of green light.   
Tony huffed. _Fuckin’ magic._  
So yes, he hadn’t been talked to for three days.   
He hadn’t been acknowledged for three days.   
Walking into the newly refurbished penthouse, he found Loki already there, staring out the window, his hands hanging limply at his sides.   
Though, there was the little, tiny problem that said hands were _glowing green_.   
And not a soft glow like his reactor.   
No; nothing would make sense in the world if Tony Stark had it easy.   
No, those hands were a glowing _inferno_ of green flame and energy.   
Now, the logical side of Tony’s brain _(which he did use on occasion)_ , told him not to disturb the god when he was holding fire in his palms.   
Of course, there was that _other_ part of Tony’s brain; the one that he’d already established loved bad ideas.

Naturally, he spoke. “Rudolph- you want that drink now?”   
Loki spun around and Tony had to do a double take because _holy fuck his eyes_.   
They were glowing the same intense green as his hands.   
He didn’t have time to move.   
Pure green energy hit him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the glass shelving that held all his alcohol behind the bar.  
There was a burst of pain, and he was out before he hit the ground.

*

“…..ckless mortal. You should’ve been more careful, Anthony. You know the power in which I hold.” A rustling sound. “You should know better than to disturb someone in the midst of an…what do you people call it? An anxiety attack.” A deep sigh. “I apologize, Anthony. It was never my intent to harm you…”   
He was taken by darkness once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, I realize this is a VERY short chapter, and I'm sorry for that.   
> My 16th birthday is in a couple of days, so I'll be going out of town for a couple weeks, which means no posting. Sorry!  
> There may or may not be another chapter up after this one before I go on my vacation.   
> Thanks for anyone whose read this!   
> And if you guys have prompts or ideas- for this fic or for a new one- let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> So, here it is, guys. I'm rebooting 'Falling'. Hope you like!  
> Sorry this chapter is so short


End file.
